


Tu Sors Encore Ce Soir

by unwindmyself



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Drunken Flirting, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Fingerfucking, One Night Stands, Power Dynamics, Spanking, Teasing, Women in the Military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 11:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3288512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wartime acquaintances meet in a bar once victory has been reached.  What happens after is a good old-fashioned distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tu Sors Encore Ce Soir

**Author's Note:**

> So I've seen people using Private Lorraine's name in all different ways, but I always assumed that given the format that was her last name. Hence, her invented first name.

When the war ends, the celebrations begin. It’s reasonable, of course, there are a lot of things to celebrate. Men in uniform are treated like the heroes they are, afforded special privileges wherever they go.

Women in uniform might be too, but Peggy takes hers off as soon as she can. She doesn’t want special privileges, she wants anonymity and its companion solitude. She doesn’t believe in wallowing; “Margaret Carter, get out of bed and do something useful,” she can hear her mother admonish.

So she gets out of bed.

11:26, her clock reads. Likely her imagined mother would find being in bed at this hour acceptable, and would consider going for drinks the opposite of “useful,” but it’s a distraction, and Peggy can’t think of something more useful than that.

To go out unpainted would draw _more_ attention, she thinks, so she camouflages herself with lipstick and powder, heels and a blue dress that while hardly flashy isn’t dowdy either. Just the right compromise.

And the bar she slips into, popular with recently ex-servicemen, is dark and small enough that she can sit at the end of the counter and sip her whiskey in peace. And a second, and a third, and…

“Fancy seeing you here,” a low female voice coos from behind her.

Peggy’s initial reaction at being approached is to stiffen, but it being a woman speaking means she doesn’t immediately throw a punch. She’s tempted when she sees the face, though, the smirking, framed-by-blonde-hair face.

“Private Lorraine,” Peggy says tersely.

“Carter,” the other woman returns, looking pleased with her insolence at dropping rank. “Margaret or Peggy? Which should I use, I mean.”

Peggy bites her lip to keep from snapping – perhaps “call me nothing, as your being here makes my already rubbish night worse,” though she finds it’s not as true as it ought to be – and finally looks the blonde in the eye. “Peggy,” she says. “Nobody that isn’t present at holiday dinner calls me Margaret.” Assessing, she adds, “What should I call you? I never bothered to learn your proper name.”

That earns a laugh, almost appreciative. “Ava,” she says. “What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey,” Peggy says.

“Mind a little company?” Ava asks.

“Yes,” Peggy says, but Ava sits anyway, hailing the bartender.

“Another for the lady,” she calls. “And gin for me.”

Peggy pulls a face. “What is this?”

“What is what, _Peggy_?” Ava asks innocently.

“This,” Peggy says impatiently. “Chatting me up at a bar like you think me an easy mark.”

“Chatting you up?” Ava repeats. “Why Peggy, what makes you think I’m that kind of girl?”

“I’m not a bloody idiot,” Peggy says, rolling her eyes. “And I remember what your flirting looks like.”

“I detect a note of wounded pride,” Ava laughs.

“You give yourself too much credit,” Peggy snaps, reaching for her glass. “I’d be a fool for having let that seriously offend me.”

“You seemed rather miffed,” Ava says.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Peggy replies, “but it was never pride.”

Ava chuckles. “Coulda fooled me, sweetheart.”

“Peggy,” says Peggy. “Not sweetheart, not doll, not honey.”

“Message received,” Ava smirks. “I’m guessing toots is off the table too?”

“Completely off.”

“Sugar?”

“You’re pushing your luck,” Peggy observes.

“Perhaps you’d prefer a proper _my lady_ ,” Ava teases.

“Absolutely not,” Peggy exclaims. “Peggy or nothing.”

“Fine,” Ava sighs, like it’s some great imposition. Really what this was was a distraction.

But Peggy is not so easily deterred, possibly because she sees through it. “You really are good at playing games,” she says to Ava. “Suiting things to your purpose.”

“Not all of us get to get on the front lines and blast our problems away,” Ava replies.

It makes Peggy laugh, a bit longer and a bit louder than she usually would (the only sign so far that the whiskey is working). “In that I have a problem with Nazis, yes, I suppose I got to blast problems away,” she says. “But having a gun and some pretense of authority isn’t a convenient cure-all for personal woes.”

“No,” Ava agrees, “I don’t imagine it is.”

“I admit I was the slightest bit jealous,” Peggy continues (that openness, another sign of the whiskey). “When I saw you engaging with Steve – with Captain Rogers. I was mostly worried, though.”

Ava knocks back more of her drink. “I don’t even think I saw myself as a rival for his affections, not seriously,” she says.

“Not about that,” Peggy says, rolling her eyes. “I was worried for him, not myself. Steve – Captain – he was rather inexperienced in the ways of the world.”

“So it fell to you to protect his virtue,” Ava supplies.

“Yes,” Peggy retorts. “No. I just didn’t want him wasting time on some girl who really only wanted to notch Captain America into her bedpost. He didn’t need that confusion.”

“You aren’t his mother,” Ava points out.

“No, but I’m, I was, was his something.” Peggy makes a face into her glass, suddenly aware of her lack of composure. “I felt responsible.”

“Yeah, well,” Ava says. “You still feeling responsible tonight?”

Peggy looks up to see that glint returned to Ava’s eyes. “I get the feeling that we’re not still talking about Steve,” she murmurs.

“Damn right we’re not.”

 

* * *

 

Between the two of them, Ava’s had less to drink, at least, and the girl she’s crashing with is visiting a cousin and won’t be back tonight, so she takes the lead in steering them out of the bar (she even insists on picking up Peggy’s tab, waving off any protestations) and into a cab.

In the back seat, Ava places a hand on Peggy’s thigh, murmuring, “I admit, you were a bit of a gamble.”

“Never know which girls are going to be inclined to take your bait?” Peggy asks, smirking.

Ava chuckles. “The odds are reduced,” she says.

“Well, I was a good girl growing up,” Peggy declares. “And good girls have secrets, sometimes other good girls. Sometimes Siobhan Darry the housekeeper’s daughter.”

“Sounds like a Regency novel,” Ava observes.

“But then I’d have been Lord Martin and not Lady Margaret,” Peggy giggles. “And I’d have got a hell of a lot higher in the army.”

That earns another laugh. “Fair,” Ava says.

“What about you?” Peggy asks. “I’m clearly not your first female paramour.”

“Lover,” Ava corrects. “Please. It’s so much more modern.” She slides her hand up Peggy’s leg and she adds, “Mary Anne Perkins. She sang in the church choir with me. Kissing practice, she said.”

The cab pulls up to the building, and after Ava pays the man she grabs Peggy’s hand to tug her toward the door. It’s more insistent than affectionate, so Peggy allows it, though she’s less used to things like hand-holding than she’d admit. Assignations in bedrooms or broom closets, no problem, but anything more tied to feelings is, while not altogether foreign, unusual enough that she’s glad to forgo it.

Ava’s on the third floor, which means that on the landing between first and second Ava pushes Peggy up against the wall to kiss her, all rough and hungry. “I always figured you weren’t so prim,” she whispers against Peggy’s lips.

“What did you think of me, then?” Peggy retorts.

“Oh, nothing specific,” Ava muses, sliding her hand over Peggy’s curves. “Just that someone as worldly as you couldn’t be completely proper.”

Peggy chortles. “That’s a change,” she says. “The vagueness of it. Near any man you ask will come up with one disgusting rumor about me or another. Rogers, or Stark, sometimes both. Colonel Phillips, once.”

“Men are dogs,” Ava declares, unlocking her door.

“Some are, yes,” Peggy agrees with a sigh. “And yet they’re some of them hard to resist, aren’t they.”

“Sometimes,” Ava says. She tugs Peggy inside and pins her against the door once it’s closed. “Sometimes something else catches our eye.”

Peggy shuts her eyes and thread fingers in Ava’s hair. “Sometimes,” she repeats.

Ava slides her hand under Peggy’s dress, up over her bare leg. “Do you want to keep on looking back or do you want a pretty distraction?”

“The latter,” Peggy husks. “Are you going to keep teasing all night or are you going to make love to me?”

“Oh, she’s bossy, too,” Ava purrs. “C’mon. It’s not much of a bed but it’ll do the job.”

They trip into the bedroom, neither of them entirely coordinated, both of them shedding layers as they go that leave a trail on the floor.

“Like breadcrumbs,” Ava whispers.

“Your bed is a witch’s lair, then?” Peggy quips.

“To hear some tell it,” Ava says ominously, keeping a straight face for a moment before bursting out laughing. “You seemed rather intent on keeping me from corrupting the star-spangled man.”

“Tell me true,” Peggy says. “Would you have been interested in _just_ Steve Rogers?”

“Depends on the day,” Ava shrugs. “If I was bored enough, maybe. But liaising with Captain America is a rare opportunity. I figured I wouldn’t let it pass me by.”

“That,” Peggy declares. “It’s not corruption I was afraid of, it was using him. Playing games.”

“And yet here you are,” Ava points out. “Playing that same game.”

“I am, as you observed, hardly an innocent,” Peggy smirks. By now, she’s down to her brassiere and slip, lipstick smudged, and Ava’s in a similar enough state. “I’m better at games than he was,” she says. “At least when I want to be.”

“I can see that,” Ava murmurs. “Who’da thunk, Peggy Carter the five-drink lay.”

“I’m easy,” Peggy giggles. She perches on the edge of the bed, pats the space next to her. “You want to kiss me, come and kiss me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ava says with a smirk, flouncing over and kneeling perpendicular to Peggy so she has to twist to kiss her. “That your thing? Would you like laying me over your knee and disciplining me?”

Peggy lets out a laugh, but upon closer read of Ava’s face she sees it’s a sincere question. So she gives it a moment of thought. “I wouldn’t mind seeing how well you follow orders,” she says, almost testing the waters.

“I might do all right,” Ava coos. “Might not. Haven’t decided yet.”

“So you want me to discipline you preemptively,” Peggy muses.

Ava shrugs lightly. “Do you think that would help?” She’s egging on, that much is clear.

“Were you this bratty to your superior officers?” Peggy asks.

“Not often,” Ava replies.

Peggy sighs. “I feel like you’re trying to push me,” she observes.

“Maybe,” Ava says, flashing a grin before she leans in to kiss Peggy again, biting at her bottom lip.

“Yes,” Peggy corrects, and (careful not to hurt) she pushes Ava down flat so she’s sprawled out over her lap.

“Oh!” Ava exclaims.

“Is ten enough, do you think?” Peggy asks softly. She has a style, that much is clear, and it’s not entirely Ava’s usual but it’s quite something.

“That’s up to you,” Ava whispers, all but devoid of the sass she’d been pulling a moment ago.

“We’ll see,” Peggy murmurs. “Shout ‘red’ if it’s too much, dear.” And with that sweet contradictory pet name she brings her hand flat down against Ava’s arse, not bothering to hide how much she enjoys seeing the other woman’s skin flush. “Count them off for me.”

“That’s one,” Ava breathes out, wiggling against Peggy’s lap as if to invite the next. Peggy takes the hint, smacking Ava’s bottom once more. “And two!”

Peggy hums, amused, stroking over Ava’s heated skin, then down between her legs. “You do enjoy this, don’t you,” she murmurs, giving another spank.

“Three! Yes,” Ava exclaims. “Good grief, I should have tried this sooner. Imagine you laying me out over one of those tables in the bunker.”

“Oh, it would have been quite something,” Peggy agrees, punctuating her statement with another smack.

“Four!”

“Though,” Peggy muses, “good luck finding a time we wouldn’t have had to contend with prying eyes.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have minded an audience,” Ava purrs, fully expecting that will earn the next hit. “Five! Just imagine. You’ve never thought about doing things with all those eyes on you?”

Peggy laughs out loud. “Why waste my own energy imagining it when they imagined it for me,” she says. The next smack is followed with more of those gentle caresses, possibly just so that Ava will get distracted and earn another harder one for her negligence in counting it.

“Six, seven!” Ava exclaims, laughing low in her throat. “You’re vicious.”

“I don’t skimp,” Peggy corrects.

The last three of the set are delivered in quick succession and acknowledged properly, though by the last Ava is all but flopped against Peggy’s lap with a smile that seems somehow more intoxicated than the liquor could possibly have caused. Despite herself Peggy smiles, lets her fingers travel between Ava’s legs again and idle there, too gentle to create any real friction but present enough to tease.

“Stop it,” Ava giggles, shifting her weight against Peggy to catch her off-balance. It doesn’t work, as beyond wobbling a bit Peggy doesn’t move, but it’s rather adorable in its way, and Ava rolls her eyes. “You know, now you’ve got me…” She trails off, shrugging. “Like this. World’s your oyster.”

“I did say something about following orders,” Peggy recalls, trying to stay serious. “If I lie back like you wanted, can I assume you’ll know what to do or will you need me to walk you through it?”

“It’s been a while,” Ava murmurs, “but I think I can remember.”

“Mm, then get to it, private,” Peggy coos, easing back and rather clumsily rearranging herself against the bedspread, trying to keep her expression as supercilious as possible.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ava says. Her own attempts to roll over and spread Peggy’s legs are no more graceful, and it gives the moment a certain humor, but that evaporates when she drags nails along Peggy’s inner thigh, then bites down on the same spot.

“Good God,” Peggy exclaims, and she drapes her other leg over Ava’s shoulder just so she can dig a heel into Ava’s back, urging and chastising all at once.

“Do you approve?” Ava murmurs, grinning up about as arrogantly as can be.

“I hope you don’t think that’s all you’re down there to do,” Peggy says, trying to laugh and finding herself secretly dismayed by what a weak attempt it is.

“No, ma’am, just warming you up,” Ava says sweetly, nipping at Peggy’s other thigh to leave a matching little mark and actually growling when Peggy’s foot bats at her again.

“Get on with it,” Peggy huffs.

So Ava does, zeroing right in on Peggy’s bud, closing her lips around it and sucking with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

And it feels good, so good really, better than anything Peggy’s felt in a while, but she realizes it’s going to bring her much too quickly and that takes some of the fun away. So she fists her hand in Ava’s pretty blonde hair and tugs her up. “Not yet,” she orders. “Start slower. Work me up.”

Ava rolls her eyes slightly, but she does as she’s told, moving to lick at the juncture of Peggy’s hip and thigh, then kiss a line from that spot to her center. “Better?”

Peggy nods, as coolly as she’s able. Her hand slips to Ava’s neck.

“Good,” Ava mumbles. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

“You won’t,” Peggy says, all soft and insistent. “You’ll be very good if you just do as I tell you.”

“Oh will I,” Ava hums in a challenge.

“You will,” Peggy assures. “Step it up, now.”

She pushes Ava’s head forward, silently urging her to lick. And she keeps urging for a good ten minutes, enjoying how Ava gradually softens and grows more humble, how she takes suggestions sooner and does with a dreamy smile. She also enjoys the familiar warmth building in her belly, of course.

Finally she says, “Finish the job, dear.”

Ava nods, returning her attention to Peggy’s nub until Peggy sighs loudly and releases her grip on the back of Ava’s head.

“Very good,” she murmurs. She relaxes more against the bed, motions for Ava to move up and join her. “Are you always this way?”

Ava shrugs. “I respond well to authority.”

“I see,” Peggy says. Idly she strokes over Ava’s side, drops her hand to cup Ava’s breast. “And rewards?”

“What about them?” Ava asks, a bit of snap to it despite her peaceful expression.

“Do you also respond well to those?”

“Give it a try,” Ava dares.

So Peggy lets her hand trail down between Ava’s legs and lets her fingers get to work. She goes quickly, every so often distributing kisses and enjoying the red of her lipstick against the cream of Ava’s skin, and Ava smiles and sighs and moans and it’s almost alarmingly calm, almost uncharacteristically pleasant.

When she comes, Ava leans to kiss the join of Peggy’s throat and winds up biting into the cord of muscle instead, which makes Peggy almost chuckle out a “Now, now” with no real force behind it. She holds Ava close as she shivers through her aftershocks and nuzzles into her once they’ve passed.

“You’re surprisingly sweet for a disciplinarian,” Ava teases after a moment.

“Catch more flies with honey, I suppose,” Peggy replies.

“You going to stay the night?” Ava asks.

“You’ll find I’m not much of a cuddler,” Peggy sighs.

“It’s late.”

“I can make my way.”

“Make your way in the morning.” It’s an order, really, and Peggy doesn’t mind being the one to obey.


End file.
